Howler's Night (10 page)

“Yeah.” I cupped myself. “But it would be worth it.”

Shaking her head as if I was the dumbest thing on earth, she sauntered off toward the bathroom.

Sitting up, I shoved my fingers through my hair. I knew what we’d have to do now, where we’d have to go.

It didn’t take me long to clean up and dress. When I walked out, Dean stood behind the counter. The man clearly had nothing but suits in his closet.

“So you’re finally leaving the nest, eh?” He rubbed at a spot on the already polished counter.

Taking a seat in front of him, I reached for the plate of turkey sandwiches beside him. Having lived there for the past four months, I knew the morning rabble would soon arrive.

I took a bite, swallowed, and then nodded. “It’s time.”

“It sure as hell is. But ya know”—he leaned forward and cast a quick glance over his shoulder at the bathroom behind him—“she still ain’t totally right. Keep an eye on that girl. There are many paths still.”

“Yeah.” I nodded, devouring the rest of the sandwich in three large bites.

Pandora walked out, gave me a shy smile, and then slipped back into the pantry. I was just about to head back toward her when Dean grabbed my hand.

“You sure you want her to read your journal?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Weren’t you the one who told me to trust her instincts? She knows I sold my soul to you. What does it matter now if she knows who made me?”

Pulling back his hand, he shrugged. “Hey, I’m all about honesty. ‘Specially in my line of work, but I will tell you this: sometimes the truth is a bitch.”

Uneasy and still very unsure about what I was planning, I couldn’t really figure a way around it either. If Pandora discovered the truth from someone else, it could go bad. If she learned it from me, it could go worse. Problem was, I couldn’t read the future to tell which way to go. All I had was my gut and my belief that in the end she would realize that who’d crafted me hadn’t determined what I’d become.

I’d broken away from expectation just as she had. If anyone could understand that, I would hope it would be her.

“Priest.” Death’s voice stopped me and made me turn.

There was a strange glow in his amber eyes. “Don’t know why I’m telling you this, but I think maybe I like you, so I’m gonna share a future.”

“What?”

The only thing I was interested in hearing was that Pandora would be safe. The rest didn’t matter.

“You make the right choices”—he dipped his head—“and it won’t be you coming to live with me.”

Muscles rigid, I clenched my fists. “Not Pandora. You can’t have her.”

His lips stretched thin. “Be well, Priest. I
will
see you again.”

~*~

Pandora

We were outside, staring at the space where the bar had once been. As if by magic, the moment we stepped outside, the building and all inside of it had vanished. Simply winked out of existence.

Unnerved, I rubbed a hand down my arm, smoothing out the goose bumps.

“You okay?” Asher glanced at me side-eyed.

I nodded and then shrugged. It was creeping closer to dawn, and I felt exposed and paranoid that there were monsters hiding in the shadows, ready to bear down on us.

He grabbed my hand. “I’m not going to let anyone else hurt you, little demon.”

Narrowing my eyes, I squeezed his fingers. “That’s not what scares me anymore, Priest.”

“Then what does?”

I swallowed hard and admitted the truth of my fear. “What I’ll do if they try.”

His touch was brief, just a flutter of fingers along my cheekbone, but immediately I felt more centered and less frazzled.

“I believe in you, and so should you. You’re better than you give yourself credit for.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat then cleared it hard twice. There was a time for talking and a time for doing, and now wasn’t the time for shooting the breeze.

“What’s the plan, Ash?”

“We find Grace, and then we go get you that key.”

I glanced down at his feet, gently moving out of his arms. “I heard you talking to Death, Asher. I’m not gonna like what’s in that book, am I?”

His jaw clicked, and then without any warning, his dark wings flared open. His look was intense as he said, “No, little demon, you’re not.”

Peace is a journey of one thousand miles and it must be taken one step at a time.

~Lyndon B. Johnson

Pandora

It took us several days of hard searching, following one cold lead after another from some of Grace’s previous contacts. We hit Kentucky, Virginia, Arizona, and Texas before we finally stumbled upon a promising lead.

It seemed the previous darling of the Order had gone into deep hiding in a nowhereville town called Truth and Consequences, New Mexico.

I cast Asher a dubious look when he glided us gently to the ground. Disentangling my body from his arms the moment his feet landed and dusting the dirt off my pants, I glanced at the desertscape. Nothing but saguaro cactus, tumbleweeds, red dirt, and patches of dead, yellowed grass stretched for miles in every direction.

“You think she’s actually here?” He tucked his wings away.

I’d had it with the chaps Asher had given me days ago. I’d made him take me to my trailer first to change into my own clothes. Clothes that would help me remember better what it meant to be me.

But as I’d stared at the gaudy rows of clothing, I hadn’t felt comfortable grabbing any of it. In the end, I’d settled for pulling on one of Kem’s oversized Pantera t-shirts and a pair of baggy jeans ripped at the knees and just below my crotch. I hadn’t been ready to go all-out goth chick again.

Kneeling on the ground, I picked up the red dirt and let it sift between my fingers. “I don’t know. It’s possible. She hated the cold, and you’d be hard-pressed to find many signs of life out here.”

Truth and Consequences could only boast a few thousand residents, of which Grace was not one. I knew because we’d peeked inside all eight-hundred-odd houses. We were now on the outskirts of town, but something about this place felt right.

I lifted a brow, turning to him. “If you were old, infirm, and hiding from a bunch of murdering bastards, where would you go?”

Ash stared straight ahead to the jagged peaks of the blue-hued mountains off in the distance. “That would probably be a good place to start.”

“Yeah.” I stood. “I think so too.”

Grabbing his hand, I traced us along the side of the range, stopping only when I spotted something far out of the ordinary.

Tucked deep into the range was a large cave. But that wasn’t what caught my eye.

No, instead it was the obviously fake grass planted around its entrance, the pink flamingos parked on either side of it, and the floor mat that read “Come inside and die.” Wavering faintly around the entrance like an asphalt mirage was a ward.

Wards could do many things. Keep everyone out, or only keep certain people out. Grace’s ward was clearly designed to allow friendlies to peer through it to the truth beneath. More than likely she’d formed some sort of illusion that would cause the actual entrance of her home to look like nothing other than rock face to those not allowed.

Chuckling under my breath, I turned to Asher, who was already looking at me.

“That’s her,” we said together.

There was no knocker with which to announce ourselves, but that wasn’t a problem. The second we stepped onto the mat, we were surrounded by a swarm of faces I immediately recognized.

I tensed.

“Just breathe, Pandora,” Asher whispered into my ear. “If you need to go, we’ll go.”

I grabbed his hand, holding tight to it. I’d been around other people for days, but not for socializing. This would be a true test of control for me.

He kissed my temple. “Focus on breathing just like I taught you.”

I nodded, but had no time to speak as my brother Adam from our sister carnival finally reached our side.

Though not a brother by blood—he was a Greed demon and I Lust—we’d formed a bond decades ago. His hair was short and brown, his eyes the same starry blue I remembered, and his look cold enough to force even the bravest of mortals into pissing themselves. Standing to either side of him were his children, Cain (over six feet of solid muscle with eyes and hair as dark as onyx, but the same good looks as his father) and Abel (a slighter thinner, yet no less impressive version of his older brother).

They were berserkers, a very rare and prized result of a Nephilim successfully mating with a mortal woman. Most berserkers died in their first year from the complications of demon DNA screwing around with their frail human markers.

“Auntie P!” Abel said, rushing up to me and wrapping me tight in his thick-as-tree-trunk arms.

I released an
oomph
of surprise. “Last time I saw you”—I eased out of his arms, ribcage still twinging from being squeezed so tight—“you were a skinny beanpole covered in zits.”

He snorted. “Haven’t looked like that in a while.”

His sweet disposition hadn’t changed one bit though, and that, more than anything, helped ease my nerves. I patted his cheek, wondering at how my nephew could still remain so positive and sweet even after the horrors of the things we’d seen on a daily basis.

I turned to Cain, expecting him to just nod at me as he usually did. He’d always been more intense and less sociable than Able. But he surprised me.

“God, I’m glad you’re okay. Grace told us what happened.” He kissed my cheek and gently patted my back. “I told Pop that black streak tracing toward us had to be you.”

My brows dipped, and I shook my head. “Where’s the real Cain?”

Chuckling, he jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Cain met a girl and chilled out some.”

“Oh.”

But then Adam walked straight up to me, and a wet sheen glimmered in his unnatural blue gaze. “Dora.”

Just one word, my name, but it encompassed a wealth of meaning. Shuddering, I fell into his arms and buried my face into his broad chest. Adam wasn’t one for showing emotion, so I knew what this cost him. But just as I’d suffered, so had he. He, more than most, understood my nightmare.

Asher’s touch on my lower back helped me remember we were still standing outside in the sweltering heat. Clearing my throat, I stepped back, pretending to dust off my shirt, and glanced at the cave entrance.

“How’s Grace?”

Adam licked his front teeth, sighed, and then turned toward the cave. We all followed suit.

“She had a stroke six months back. She’s doing better now, but I doubt she’ll live out the year.”

“I want to see her.”

Adam hunched over as we entered the cave. “She wants to see you too.” He looked at Ash. “Both of you.”

The blast of cool air was a relief from the baking heat. I couldn’t imagine what had possessed Grace to live in a cave, but the farther I walked into it, the more I could see the appeal.

The walls of the home had been chiseled down until they were nearly smooth, exposing veins of metallic zagging lines that winked from the glow of strategically placed wall sconces.

Electricity was actually running through this place, resulting in a vaguely pinkish-reddish gleam on the natural stone. I touched the walls—no moisture. Everything was nice and dry, not your typical musty, damp cave.

The rooms were well lit and ventilated. Nothing about this place screamed lair or dungeon; it was just a nice home that happened to be built underground.

At a guess I’d say Grace had commissioned the building of this place decades earlier, more than likely in secret, and as a hideout should circumstances ever require it. I was impressed once again by her foresight. Grace hadn’t risen to her position in the Order by happenstance.

Finally we broke free of the tunnel into an inviting cavern set up as a living room. It wasn’t overly large, but it felt more than comfortable for the five us to walk through. The room had Mexican throw rugs on the floor, an overstuffed leather couch, a pair of love seats, and Grace’s familiar recliner tucked away in the corner.

Adam gestured us forward. “She’s back in her room.”

Ash threaded our fingers together, and I let him. Maybe he was remembering Grace’s and my past. To be honest, it wasn’t far from my mind either.

It seemed like forever ago that I’d thought she’d betrayed me into killing Kem. I knew the truth of it now, but it was still shaky footing between us.

When I entered her room, it took me a moment to realize the feeble and decrepit woman lying prone on the bed had once been my vivacious handler.

Asher stepped in close to me, and I leaned into his touch, needing it more than I’d realized.

Her hair had been snow white for years already, but now it was patchy and stringy. Most of it had fallen out. Her loose skin was a dull yellow peppered with liver spots, big and bold across her hands and the sides of her scrawny neck.

There wasn’t much to her now, mainly skin and bones. The white gown she wore draped like a funeral shroud across her skeletal frame. But I couldn’t hide my twitch of discomfort when I got to her face.

Half of it drooped, like someone had taken a marker to it and injected acid straight down the center. Her left eye, the left corner of her mouth, and even her left nostril sagged a good inch and a half lower than the opposite side.

The only similarity I saw between this Grace and the one I used to know was the keen blue of her eyes.

“Dora.” Her voice was stronger than I would have imagined possible. She held out a quivering hand to me.

Taking a deep breath, I eased myself off Asher and walked slowly to her side. “Grace,” I said as I took her hand and rubbed it gently.

Her thin skin felt as fragile as rice paper.

Sighing, she rolled her head to the side. “Leave us be, boyos,” she said, eyeing the four males behind us.

Adam, Cain, and Abel left immediately. Asher seemed a little more reluctant though. He stood by the door, staring between the two of us.

Only the right side of Grace’s face lifted into a grin. “She won’t hurt me, Priest. There be nothing here to take.”

She laughed, but it soon morphed into a booming chest cough that was painful to hear. I helped sit her up and rubbed her back soothingly until the worst of it passed. I caught a sharp whiff of eucalyptus oil and the faint odor of mold. It was a scent firmly associated with the elderly. Adam was right; Grace wouldn’t have much longer for this world.